13966/Water-walker

Water-walker
Date of Scene:	19 November 2021
Location:	Columbus Park - Chinatown
Synopsis:	Vitali practices martial arts kata upon the surface of the lake by Columbus Park. Xiang Zhao watches from on high. Moments of clarity are found, memories are indulged, lucidity is taken away. Kit Killovarras and Hunori happen on the scene, and Zhao leaves with Vitali.
Cast of Characters:	Vitali Svyatoslav, Xiang Zhao, Kit Killovarras, Hunori Seong

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Vitali Svyatoslav has posed:
The last rays of sunlight are fading across the sky as evening steadily marches onward towards the darkness of the night. Those last shimmering rays, as they slowly retreat, paint the sky with their sunset colours. And those streaks of colour are reflected within the still waters that stretch beyond the shore. The waters are still, the surface mirror-like, at least for some fair distance out from the shore.

And at that point, there are ripples. Soft ripples that tease across the surface in an irregular pattern and frequency. Those ripples emanate out from soft touches of toes and feet. There are light touches of them upon the surface of the water, yet those toes and feet show no signs of being wet, nor do the black and red robes that are worn by the figure of Vitali some twenty odd feet from the shore. He moves, and lightly so, through motions that might well be quite familiar to some. He moves through a kata of martial arts, his long black hair free and loose and whispering lightly against his back.

Xiang Zhao has posed:
Two pairs of dark eyes watch from the trees. High up amongst the branches. Xiang Zhao had been here for quite sometime. Long before the demon inhabiting his friend had arrived at these shores. Long before that person had used his friend's body to go out onto the waters.

He sits, cross legged on one of the higher branches, expression entirely serene, almost to the point of being cold and expressionless. Sitting on his left knee is an eagle. Within his lap is a large bag of fresh meat cut into chunks. Every few minutes, he fishes a chunk of meat from the bag and gives it to the, very much unhooded, eagle. With his other hand, Zhao gently strokes the eagle's breast feathers.

Up in the tree, despite the feeding, both pairs of eyes watch Vitali's body. Neither make a single sound.

Vitali Svyatoslav has posed:
Magic is at play here, of that there is no doubt. It is what keeps him from sinking beneath the surface of the water, and what keeps him from getting his robes wet despite the bits of water that are kicked up by his feet. There is a calm ease to his movements, a gracefulness that comes from such a practice. He smoothly dips his fingers beneath the surface of the water, straightening a moment before he lightly flicks his fingers, sending droplets of water skittering out across the surface.

The movements through the kata display a certain level of skill. Not the Siberian's own skill, but instead that of Heng Zhihao, and she has had time to begin to hone his body to her own liking. The kata is ended, and for a moment, Vitali looks out towards the deeper waters. His gaze lifts briefly towards the sun's setting rays, and then he lightly turns to start to walk his way towards the shore. Watched though he might be, he does not seem to notice that it is being done. His steps are soft and quiet, each one sending a flurry of ripples out from them as he makes his way towards the shore.

Xiang Zhao has posed:
The Chinaman up in the tree also wears robes. But they are not elaborate like the ones Vitali's abductor wears. Deep green with rich dark mahogany at collar, cuffs, hem lines. Woven throughout it, like the branches of a tree, the same mahogany wends. Xiang Zhao shakes his head, the motion slow and precise. He doesn't like the robes on his friend. They don't fit the person who's body is wearing them.

He feeds another chunk of meat to Soraya. And still, his eyes remain on the body of his friend. He's been doing this with fair regularity, keeping an eye on that body and the whereabouts of both it and the pile of dung inhabiting it. Thanks to his skills at staying hidden, the woman hasn't spotted him during any of the times he's prowled after her, like some discrete shadow.

Though it's silent to his own ears, the eagle sitting on his knee will likely have hearing good enough to pick up the sound of Zhao's sigh. He misses his friend. And despises the huli who's stolen that friend away.

Vitali Svyatoslav has posed:
Were the Siberian to have a choice, the current set of robes would not be ones that he would choose to be wearing. He'd prefer blue. The black and the red, even though they're lightened by the white, are simply not him. Yet he has no choice in the matter, for his voice has been forced to silence save for what brief moments he's managed to reclaim freedom. It never lasts for very long when it happens. Over the course of the past few days, his spirit has been quiet within the prison of his body. Resting, hoarding what little strength that he can call his own.

Vitali's body has not strayed from Chinatown. He's wandered the length and breadth of it, seeming to be hunting and searching... for something. People are watched, and closely, and nothing has seemed to come of it. Xiang Zhao's presence has eluded him -- and there is nary a thought to looking up into the trees. He turns, the movement smooth, and he faces the water briefly before he lowers to one of his knees there. He lightly moves his left hand, the movement tossing back the sleeve of his robe, and then he lowers his fingertips to lightly touch the water. Ice crystals stir in the water, slowly at first, and then in a flurry to reach further afield. An inch, then two, then half a foot or more, ice seeming to burble up from the very water itself.

There is a silvery blue flicker that shows in his dark eyes, and Vitali withdraws his hand. He holds still for a brief moment, and then he lifts his gaze away from the water to look across the span of the park.

Xiang Zhao has posed:
Xiang Zhao remains in the tree. Remains silent. Remains still, but for feeding the eagle, and gently stroking her feathers. "Yao you naixin, Soraya," he murmurs, the sound almost as quiet as a breath. Be patient, Soraya. Patience is something Xiang Zhao has a great deal of. The eagle... well. She probably does too, for hunting requires it to be good at.

Silence falls once more. The eagle turns her head to gently preen a lock of his hair, much as he'd seen her do with Vitali a hundred times. Zhao's lips curl up, ever so slightly. His eyes turn to regard Vitali down below once again. Watching what that she-fox demon is doing there, with the ice.

Vitali Svyatoslav has posed:
Patience. It is a thing that all hunters find a benefit by having. The eagle may not understand the Chinese words that are spoken to her, but the intent and tone are picked up by her keen hearing. She is being fed, and she is doing as her master had instructed her to do, and that is enough reason for her to have patience.

There is a slight shift of Vitali's weight as he smoothly rises to his feet. That silvery blue flicker touches his eyes once again, the spark of it slightly brighter, and he makes a slight gesture of his left hand. The ice dissipates as though it hadn't even been ice, as though it had been water all along. Vitali's breathing quickens just a touch, and he makes a smooth gesture of his right hand to cause ice to unfurl and rise from the ground up. It forms itself into an exact replica of the bench that Vitali had once created for Xiang Zhao so many months ago. It looks nigh like something cast of glass, for as clear as the ice is, a soft blue hint to it. This ice seems to be more pure than what Heng Zhihao had been making. And not only does Soraya preen that lock of hair of Zhao's, but she gives it a gentle tug.

Xiang Zhao has posed:
Fed and taken care of, keeping an eye on Xiang Zhao, who is in turn keeping an eye on Vitali, which keeps Soraya close enough not to sicken her from being too far from her bond mate. If Zhao notices the silvery blue flicker in Vitali's eyes from the distance he's away from the Siberian turned Chinaman, he doesn't show it. From this distance, he might not notice it at all.

What he does notice, on the other hand, he very much notices the icy bench that's made. He sits up a little straighter, not needing Soraya's tugging on his hair. He lifts hand that's not feeding her and rests it atop her back. To prevent her from taking flight thinking that Vitali has taken over the body again for more than a few minutes. Just in case.

Xiang Zhao knows that it's unlikely Vitali has suddenly wrested control from Heng Zhihao. If he hadn't up until this point, it's unlikely for him to be able to do so without external help. If what his uncle had told him holds true, at any rate. Like the she-fox, Zhao is still looking for the foo dog statue that is her vessel to try to lock her back into it. Like her, he's had zero success.

Vitali Svyatoslav has posed:
Soraya treats Xiang Zhao much as she would treat Vitali, yet with the lack of the benefit of the bond for communication. It's what Vitali had told her to do, when he was still himself -- stay with Xiang Zhao. She eats the meat he provides her, but doesn't overstuff herself with it. She's been doing rather well, all things considered. She works her beak together a little bit, and she tilts her head to one side, eyeing Vitali from their particular vantage point. She can't tell Xiang Zhao what she sees, but she can try to get the Chinaman's attention to it, and her wings slightly shift, easing out a bit from her back.

In the brief moments of clarity that he has, those brief moments of being himself, Vitali can sense where Soraya is. He doesn't look in that direction, though... he can't, for if he does then Heng Zhihao might pluck the information from his brain. And that would not do. Soraya, at least, doesn't make any movements that seem to indicate an imminent take off from where she is with Xiang Zhao. With the bench created, Vitali lowers to his knees before it and crosses his arms upon it. He misses the Chinaman. He misses his friend. He misses Soraya, too. He rests his head on his folded arms, and he moves the fingers of one of his hands to lightly brush them over the ice of the bench. He doesn't have very long, he knows -- she fights him even now, to try to regain control of his body, but so far, he's able to keep her at bay.

Soraya shifts her weight a little bit there on Zhao's arm, back and forth from one taloned foot to the other, and she quietly clicks her beak a little bit. She studies Vitali in one moment and then tilts her head to one side to study Xiang Zhao. She leans, her body hunkering a little bit and her head bobbing a little bit back and forth. She turns her head to try to snag his sleeve, to tug it a little bit.

Xiang Zhao has posed:
A bond isn't really needed for communication, so much. Xiang Zhao has ways of figuring out what Soraya wants, and he has ways to tell her what he wants. Usually all without a sound, for let's face it. Without the bond, she probably doesn't understand English much. When Soraya is done with her meal, Zhao closes up the bag and tucks it into a pouch somewhere on his person.

For the moment, Zhao's eyes remain on the scene below. On Vitali, down below. He knows it's actually Vitali, at least for this moment. Eyes never leaving Vitali, Zhao's hand gently pats Soraya's back. Reassuring. He knows. He sees that it's Vitali and not the evil one inhabiting him. But he dares not to go down. Dares not to join Vitali. For the evil one could subsume him at any moment and Zhao knows it. Whatever it is Soraya wants Zhao to do, she's going to be disappointed. He's not moving from the tree.

Whilst he watches, Xiang Zhao's expression changes not at all. Despite this, a single tear falls from each eye to roll unheeded down his cheeks. It hurts him to see Vitali like this. To see his friend only able to snatch moments before control is wrested from him again. If the bench remains once Vitali and his erstwhile 'guest' have gone, Zhao will go down and look at it. And remember.

Vitali Svyatoslav has posed:
What Soraya wants is, alas, something that she won't be allowed to have. Something that she knows she isn't allowed to have. Vitali is not safe for her. Not right now. She must still obey the command that he had given her so many weeks ago. She must stay with Xiang Zhao. She eases her wings folded again, beneath Zhao's hand there on her back, and she seems to settle a bit more. She wants to call out to Vitali, and yet she holds herself silent. Soraya turns her attention fully to Zhao then, softly snicking her beak a little bit, and she moves her head to softly nuzzle against his arm, her inner eyelid sliding closed. With Vitali in control of himself, at least for now, Soraya can feel the bond with him again just as he can feel her through it. It's when he's not in control that things become... less so.

Vitali exhales a soft sigh, and he lifts his head before he exhales a soft breath of a sigh. He brushes the fingers of his right hand along the ice of the bench, at the front of it, and then he gives a slight wince. There's a moment in which he looks to the robes that he's wearing, and then he lifts a hand to rub his fingers a bit against his face. He feels how clean shaven he is, and his brow furrows somewhat. He had suspected that. It's been a lot of years since he's gone clean shaven.

Lifting one of his hands, he catches a section of his hair -- the same spot on himself where he had once braided Zhao's hair. He draws his fingers through that section of hair, and then he starts to separate it out, dividing it, forcing his breath to remain even. And he starts to hum a little bit, that same Russian lullaby from so long ago, a silvery glisten of a tear trickling down one of his cheeks. He fights for these moments, for every single one of them, and he weaves his hair into a braid of the same style as what he had put into Zhao's hair. How long has it been since he's been himself? Since he's been able to be in Xiang Zhao's company and not be a potential danger to him?

Xiang Zhao has posed:
Despite that command that she stay with him, there are times... Which is why Zhao had placed a hand on her back to make sure she doesn't fly off and do something silly. He doesn't want to be responsible for Vitali's bondmate getting dead while she's his responsibility. His lips curl up ever so slightly when the bird nuzzles against his arm. Despite the tears that still glisten on his cheeks.

He moves his other hand to gently dig his fingers into the feathers at the back of her neck. Seeking any pin feathers that might be there. Any he finds, he lightly scratches the nail of a finger down, to ever so gently remove the wax casing those pin feathers. The wax that causes itching and irritation. This time of year, it's thick. And Soraya has no other birds to preen her. So it falls to her human. Only, her human is not himself. So it falls to Zhao.

And his eyes remain upon Vitali, and most of his attention remains upon Vitali. Really, Xiang Zhao isn't the slightest bit worried about potential danger to himself. But in what he'd have to do to Vitali to keep Heng Zhihao from harming others. Which is why he watches, but remains distant.

Vitali Svyatoslav has posed:
There are times when it has been difficult for her to stay with Xiang Zhao. Difficult because she's felt Vitali, felt the clarify of him through their bond. Yet she hasn't strayed from him. Not even to hunt by herself. Her hunting has been limited to when she's been supervised by Zhao, not that she has minded. He's been providing for her needs, and she's been grateful for that.

There's a very soft sound that comes from Soraya as she feels his fingers moving through her feathers. She shifts a little bit, her feathers fluffing up some, and she leans into his touch. There are pin feathers for his fingers to find, and she holds still for him to tend to them. This is something that she's very familiar with. Her eyes close, and she bows her head a little bit, enjoying the attention that he gives her.

Part of Heng Zhihao's criss-crossing Chinatown has been hunting for a target. She's been dissatisfied with those that she's found, and Vitali has proven to be distracting at key moments with those that did suit her, and so she has made no progress on her particular goal. Yet for the moment -- for these precious few moments -- it is Heng Zhihao who is the prisoner, and the Siberian shaman who is the guard at the gate. He does, at least, have enough time to finish the braid in his hair and to secure it with a small strip of leather. He does something that's perhaps strange -- he uses another strip of leather to tie near to the top of the braid, and then he brings forth a dagger of ice to lift it and then snick off that lock of hair. The knife vanishes, and Vitali reaches out with one of his hands to carefully coil the braid of his hair upon the bench of ice. His fingers leave the braid, slowly, and he takes in a deep breath before he lets it out, a little shaky. His fingertips move across the ice, and in the wake of them is left cyrillic letters. There is also something perhaps a bit odd that's left behind. A statuette made out of crystalline ice with a blue-ish tinge, in the form of a foo dog. Lifting his right hand, he lightly uses a part of the sleeve to brush across his cheek, to sweep away the tears. Mustn't leave them for Heng Zhihao to discover. Slowly, he gets to his feet and gives the bench a last touch of one of his hands, and then he turns to take a few steps away. There is the faintest whisper of silver to touch his eyes, and then they seem somehow... darker. Heng Zhihao has reclaimed his physical self.

Xiang Zhao has posed:
Xiang Zhao's fingers move without conscious thought, seeking out and tending to the pin feathers he finds which have wax ready to come off of them. But it's very much an auto-pilot motion. The body moves, but the brain isn't paying any attention to what its doing.

Heng Zhihao's progress in hunting for a target hasn't been helped by Xiang Zhao shadowing her. Every time he realizes she's found a target, he's spirited that person right out of her clutches, just when she's thought she'd have them. Aided, in no small part in that endeavor, by Vitali's interference with the evil witch.

He sees what Vitali does with his hair. He shakes his head ever so slightly but utters not a single word. Slowly, his tears dry in the breeze that can be found in the treetops as he watches. He sees the Siberian turn away from the icy bench. Sees the moment that Heng Zhihao takes over his friend. There's a soft breath that comes from him, almost a sigh, if one thought he was prone to such things.

Vitali Svyatoslav has posed:
Soraya moves a little bit now and again, simply to accomodate the care that Xiang Zhao is applying to those annoyingly itchy pin feathers of hers. She is quite obedient in the process, and occassionally the eagle moves her beak to lightly rub against his arm. She is, it would seem, quite patient, and she keeps her eyes closed through the process.

Heng Zhihao is annoyed, and that's usually not a very good state of affairs. Even though she had regained control over the body that she's possessing, she's peevish to have lost it for those few moments. The Siberian shaman has proven to be... resilient and resourceful. These were not things that she expected to find, and yet she has had no choice but to tolerate them. Vitali turns his head slightly as though to glance back towards the bench, then instead folds his arms before himself and starts to walk across the park, heading somewhat in the direction of the exit.

Despite how much he wanted to, when he'd been himself, Vitali had not given away his friend's location up in the branches of that tree nor that of the eagle with him. He hadn't looked. It had been difficult to do, but for their safety, it had to be that way or who's to say what Heng Zhihao might do. The silk of the robes he wears whispers softly with his steps, and his long hair moves faintly against his back. The darkness creeps closer towards night, and the still water reflects the shifting shades of what remains of the sunset.

Kit Killovarras has posed:
Often times the yeen takes to wandering and often times he finds himself in parks, why? It's doubtful he even knows himself, but it's where he tends to end up.

With the fact that there are still some rays of sunlight out, he's wearing his typical attire. Baggy pants, a hoodie with the hood drawn up and his tail tucked away, wandering around like a typical teenage loner. Even with his face concealed though, he's staring at the sunset as he moves, avoiding anyone he might bump into fairly easily.

After a moment though, he'll pause and give a little snuffle at the air, his attention turning to glance between Vitali and Xiang, two people he's met before, if even just in passing. Vitali though is the one he starts towards.

Xiang Zhao has posed:
Xiang Zhao pays no mind at all to Soraya's movements, nor when she rubs her beak against his arm. Clearly, he's not the slightest bit afraid of her. His fingers stop only when Vitali moves away. Xiang Zhao uncurls his legs from the cross-legged position he'd adopted. He shifts Soraya to cradle her against his chest. Then, making a slight motion with his other hand, he steps from the tree. Only to float to the ground below, robes fluttering around him. He wears dark green robes, silk, embroidered with what appear to be branches in rich mahogany. The hems share the rich mahogany.

The Chinaman lands lightly and steps over to the icy bench that had been left behind. His dark eyes lower to have a glance at what had been left there. He ignores the words in characters and a language he doesn't understand. Instead, he focuses on the foo dog. His expression doesn't change as he shifts Soraya up to his shoulder. He reaches out and touches the foo dog, eyes closing for a moment. Opening his eyes, he pulls his hand back and twists it, turning it palm up. A small ball of fire appears there, which he then uses on the foo dog and the writing. Seconds later, both are melted into being unrecognizeable for what they had been. He picks up the braid that had been left and tucks it into the front of his robes.

Only then does he turn his attention to the rest of the park. And notices someone he's seen before. And where they're heading. He doesn't hesitate. He lifts his hand again and gestures, fingers moving almost in a half circle. Immediately after, he thrusts his hand out, toward the hooded figure. A small arch of power, silvery and semi translucent and looking like nothing more than mist in moonlight speeds toward the teenager. Zhao is at an angle the Yeen. He's aimed the magic just so, to block him from going forward, any further toward Vitali. If his aim is on, it should pass right in front of Kit. Of course, the motion was hasty, so his aim might be off a bit.

Hunori Seong has posed:
To be fair, strange happenings and bright lights was usually Hunni's thing. The girl in the bright pink hoodie had been making her way through the park at a jog with her earbuds in when -something- had set her more mystic senses humming.

Could be fine, could be good...or really, really bad...

Exhaling a breath, she doesn't quite transform yet, but the korean girl shuts off her music and starts to run just in time to see the sudden bright rush of moonlight energy crossing the air towards another figure.

"What the hell?" the young woman exclaims a little louder then she had intended in accented English.

Vitali Svyatoslav has posed:
Softly, Vitali's right hand slips within the silk of his left sleeve, and his left hand slips within his right sleeve. The movement takes his hands out of sight, and easily so. He takes a moment, his dark gaze turning to the sky and the sunset yet painted upon it. Night approaches. He watches it briefly, then glances to the still waters beyond the shore before turning away from it. The darkness makes a fine time to hunt.

The Siberian turns his dark gaze in the direction of the aardwolf who seems to be headed towards him. He tilts his head faintly to one side, his gaze flicking over the fellow from head to toe -- or perhaps head to tail. There is a ghost of a smile that barely finds the corners of his lips, and he gives a faint nod towards the aardwolf. "Wanshang hao," Vitali offers in greeting. For those who speak Mandarin, it means 'good evening'. His steps continue forward still heading on a trajectory that wil take him towards the exit of the park.

Soraya tilts her head a little to one side and peers up at Zhao, then makes a quiet sort of inquisitive sound. The eagle doesn't struggle at all against him, seeming to be quite comfortable right where she is. When she's moved up to his shoulder, she easily perches there, mindful of her talons, and she briefly shakes herself before settling her wings to her back once more. She watches what he does with the items on the bench, and she tilts her head to one side, her feathers slicking briefly at the fire but then fluffing up once it's passed.

What's left of the icy creations suddenly becomes water which tumbles to the ground. What might such a thing mean, for the one who had created them? It's hard to say. If there is any awareness at all for the magic that Zhao has cast in his relative direction, then there is no sign of it at all. What he does notice is the girl in a bright pink hoodie who happens to be running in his relative direction. The reaction is swift. He slips his hands free of his sleeves and there's a slight gesture of the fingers of his left hand, a murmur of sound that could be and likely is Mandarin, and then there's a field of ice spikes bursting from the ground all around him, glistening and razor sharp, extending well beyond arm's reach from him. Someone might be feeling slightly defensive just now.

Kit Killovarras has posed:
The aarwolf jumps ever so slightly at the magic cast his way, causing a momentary wave of violet energy to crackle along the sleeves of his hoodie, he knows where it came from, but he'll just ignore it for the moment as he turns his attention to Vitali...? No, When that wave of ice-spikes comes out, he steps just outside of it's reach and whistles a little, giving a faint smile as he muses, "A little jumpy are we, Heng Zhihao?" with a tilt of his head.

He'll give a glance towards the sound of Hunori, then gives a little sigh and brushes back his hood, revealing himself as he turns to face her. "It's fine! No worries, calm down." he calls to her with a little smile and a wave. She hasn't transformed yet, but her scent is enough to give her away. "Been a while.. How ya been?" he asks, tilting his head, as if no crazy ice magic had just been cast. Nope! Everything's fine.

Xiang Zhao has posed:
Xiang Zhao lifts his left hand to Soraya, and sends her winging up into the air. Out of sight, likely to perch in the branches above. He then slips his right hand to the fan tucked into the sash at his waist. He pulls it loose and flips it open. The sound is soft, but unmistakeable. Immediately after, the fan starts waving in a lazy fashion. Zhao walks his way forward and out of the shadows, into the greater light from the few lights that are in the park that are starting to come on.

Nothing is spoken as he pads forward, and around to where Heng Zhihao can see him. No further magic is called or cast forth from him. His long hair and his robes both sway gently in the light breeze that blows through the trees. "Heng Zhihao. Rang zhexie haizi zou ba. Wo he ni yiqi qu." His voice is soft, but carries easily enough.

Translation: Let these children go. I will go with you.

Hunori Seong has posed:
Sudden bursts of ice magic, figures looking like something out of a wuxia movie or one of the particular graphic novels she'd read...

This wasn't particularly a 'normal' event... even if Kit wasn't particularly bothered by what he was seeing.

Lights dance at her fingertips for a moment as she backs up, an exclaimation from her lips before she frowns deeper.

She didn't have an answer yet...and she very much didn't speak Mandarin!

Vitali Svyatoslav has posed:
The ice spikes remain present all around him, not a single one of them fading back to water. Vitali's stance has shifted, mirroring the defensiveness that he feels, his feet a touch further than shoulder width apart. His head tilts a touch to one side as he looks towards the aardwolf, and one of his eyebrows barely quirks upwards at the question posed of him. "Defensive is more accurate," he allows, faintly inclining his head towards the aardwolf.

His dark gaze flicks away from the aardwolf in order to turn towards the Chinaman who approaches. His feet come together, and he smoothly slips his hands back into the sleeves of his robes. Along the way with the motion, he makes a slight gesture of his right hand, and at this point is when the ice spikes withdraw, returning to water where they had sprouted from. "Yige youqu de zhuanzhe," he says softly, a thoughtful note to his voice. He seems to consider the offer for a lingering moment, perhaps... weighing lives against one another. His gaze flicks slowly over Xiang Zhao, from toe to head. "Hen hao, zhege hui jieshou ni de cunzai," he adds, inclining his head towards Xiang Zhao.

For a moment, he looks to the aardwolf, then to the girl with the light at her fingertips, looking over each of them. "Huoxu tamen geng zhiqian, dan zhege ren yijing xuanzele." He shifts his left hand, smoothly bringing his hand out of the sleeve and offering it towards Zhao. "Come, then," he says softly, a ghost of a smile touching at the corners of his lips. The water that the ice spikes had become seems to pull together beneath his feet, forming into a layer there that lifts perhaps an inch from the grass.

Translation 1: An interesting turn of events. Very well, this one will accept your presence.

Translation 2: Perhaps they are worth more, but this one has chosen.

Kit Killovarras has posed:
With Hunori standing down, Vitali standing down and Xiang not being anywhere near as shady with his magic, Kit just gives a little sigh and rubs at the bridge of his maw and murmurs, "Thank you.." before he finally looks to the possessed Siberian and quirks a brow, "Translation..?" he asks after a moment, then explains with a sheepish little grin, "Haven't studied Mandarin yet sadly.." Well, at least he can identify the language.

Figured you'd still be in there by the way.." he murmurs after a moment, whether the translation is given or not. "Your presence has had me studying again and not from texts I wanted to have to deal with again for at least another century.."

Xiang Zhao has posed:
Xiang Zhao shows no emotion at all, save for the habitual serenity that is almost always present. From his expression to his body language. Whatever his fate may be, he seems to accept it. As he waits, he tucks the fan under his left arm. A small writing kit is pulled from a pouch in his right sleeve. A narrow piece of paper that's talisman size is pulled from it, along with a modern pen.

Xiang Zhao writes a brief message upon the paper and tucks pen and kit back into the pouch. From start to finish, it doesn't take more than twenty seconds, if that, and he uses the moments in which Heng Zhihao's attention is on the two children.

He takes the fan back to his right hand, the talisman paper to his left. The fan goes back to waving, as though nothing had happened. His left slips to the small of his back, where it tends to be on a normal basis. What remains unseen is the talisman turning to ash, as though flame had engulfed it. However, there is no flame. Where it goes is not obvious in this moment unless one has the ability to sense such things.

Fan still gently waving, Xiang Zhao glances briefly to Kit, and then to Hunori as he walks past them. His steps are calm and unhurried as he walks, and remains so as he gets on the water platform. He may have been on such a contraption before, for he acts like he's walking on solid ground.

Xiang Zhao comes to a stop facing Vitali. His dark eyes drop to the offered hand, and then away. He doesn't take it, and it's obvious that it's on purpose. The fan waves. His expression is serene, calm. And he waits for whatever it is the huli witch has in mind. His eyes shift to Kit once more, briefly, and then straight ahead.

Vitali Svyatoslav has posed:
There's a slight quirk of an eyebrow as Vitali turns his dark gaze towards the aardwolf, and he tilts his head a touch to one side. There's a ghost of a smile that teases around the corners of his lips, and he gives a single shake of his head at the question of a translation. "No," he says softly. The request, it seems, is denied, and there is no translation that he offers forth for the words. "When you learn, you will remember what was said. Then you will know," he adds, inclining his head slightly towards Kit. "This one is pleased with this body. This one will not willingly leave it," he says quite softly. That might almost sound ominous.

Vitali turns his gaze towards Xiang Zhao then, having missed the moments in which the note was written. He was understandably distracted. Without any means of sensing the magic that Zhao uses, he's fairly ignorant of the message that is being sent. His gaze holds fast upon Zhao, watching the man approach in that entirely calm manner of his. So unruffleable. When his hand is so intentionally ignored, he smoothly moves his arm to cause the sleeve to fall back over his hand, and his hand moves to slip up his right sleeve. "Ni bu tongyi. Rengran," he says softly, a flicker of amusement to his voice. "Zhege ren bu ying gai xiang qita ren yiyang shengcun ma?" The water beneath their feet shifts and seems to be a solid platform for them to stand on, and it rises some six inches or so from the ground.

His gaze slips from Kit to the girl in pink. After a moment, he inclines his head slightly towards them. "Until next time. Wan'an," he says softly, a smile quirking his lips. The platform swiftly rises up, beyond the level of the tree tops, and then seems to be swallowed up into the night's darkness.

Translation 1: You do not approve. Still. // Does this one not deserve to survive as any other?

Translation 2: Good night.

Kit Killovarras has posed:
Kit watches the platform and the other two ascend into the sky, his ears folding back slightly as he gives a little sigh. Eventually, his ears will lay back ever so slightly as he muses, "That could have gone much, much worse.." a little under his breath.

Eventually, Hunori will get a glance and a little smile as the Aardwolf muses, "So, this is you without all 'sailor moon' look, huh?" Then he gives a little smile and tilts his head. "I'm guessing you're confused about all this too.." Then, he'll pull a small piece of paper out of his pocket and read it, giving a little frown as he chuckles. "Well, at least it's in english.." He looks up towards the sky where the platform was disappearing and mutters, "You're lucky I know who that is.." Yeah he knows they're too far away to hear him, but he's going to mutter at Xiang Zhao anyways!

Xiang Zhao has posed:
Xiang Zhao doesn't seem to be willing to translate what was spoken either. Even as the ominous words are spoken by Heng Zhihao in Vitali's voice, Xiang Zhao doesn't look at that person. Doesn't react at all. Simply stands there, gently waving his fan at the same unhurried pace it had been at prior to that moment. "Wo dangran bu zancheng," he says, words soft.

"Na ju shenti bu shuyu ni. Ni chusheng zai. Ni huozhe. Ni sile. Ni huole yibeizi. Weisheme ling yige ren bixu xisheng tamen de shengcun lai ni de shengcun. Weisheme bixu rang ling yige ren si caineng rang ni huozhe?" Despite the length of what he says, Xiang Zhao's voice never rises above the softly spoken tone that he always uses. Nor does his head turn to regard the other. As though the other is not worth his regard.

Translation 1: Of course I do not approve.
Translation 2: That body does not belong to you. You were born. You lived. You died. You survived for your lifetime. Why must another sacrifice their survival to extend yours? Why must another die that you may live?